by Terese Ramin
Euuw. Megan thought. P.O.’d for sure. “Nothing,” she said carefully. “Just checking.”
They were silent for a moment.
“I thought you were done with that jerk,” Li said—although “exploded” might be more accurate.
“He’s not that bad.”
Li veered right out of the parking lot. “He jams you into a wall and you defend him? What have you got, Meg, rocks for brains?”
“Back off, Li, it’s my business, not yours.”
“You mess with him on my time and you make it my business,” Li shot back. “What would he have done if I hadn’t come up then?”
“Nothin’. Somebody would’ve seen him and called the cops, same way you did.”
“I didn’t call the cops, you dolt, I bluffed. The phones are down and the electricity’s out. That’s the civil-defense siren blowing. They’ve spotted tornadoes west of town. I was comin’ to get you to get inside somewhere, but I think we’re better off out of Zevo’s reach. What was he threatening you about anyway?”
Threatening her? Megan glanced sharply at Li, recognized the truth and paled. God, he had, hadn’t he? Because of her nosy, Dudley Do Right father. Threatened and tried to intimidate and...
Physically hurt her. Or at least might have. In broad daylight—well, murky rain light, anyway—with people around and everything. And she couldn’t have done anything to stop him. For all her would-be toughness, she didn’t know how. Oh, damn. She was stupider than Lynn by a long shot. At least Lynnie never let Whatshisjerk get violent—or anything that came close. At least Lynnie knew where to call a halt and when to make a choice. But she didn’t. She only knew the choices all seemed to get made for her, or by accident or default or something. That she didn’t really have anything to do with them.
Except, somehow, to precipitate them.
No. She shook the thought away. It wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t. None of it. She wasn’t to blame. Her mother didn’t get pregnant and die because Megan wasn’t the perfect child; she got pregnant because Hank couldn’t keep his hands to himself, then wouldn’t let her have the abortion the doctor thought she should have. And she died alone because Hank was too busy to be there, got there too late to be of any use, even though Megan called begging him to come, to hurry, to fly.
At least that was what Megan thought she remembered But suddenly it all seemed awfully fuzzy and she wasn’t sure...her memory didn’t seem quite...accurate.
In fact, it seemed dead wrong. She was scrambling events, mixing things her mother said with things Gen had done, and they didn’t make sense. But they were supposed to. They had to. Otherwise, what did she have left?
Nothing.
Oh, God. Barricading her face behind her hands, she swallowed the taste of bile. No, she was right the first time. She had to be. It was Hank’s fault, this problem with Zevo, her mother, all of it.
Hank’s fault.
Without warning her stomach churned and rolled, as muddled as her thoughts. Clutching her middle to hold her insides in place, she grasped at Li’s arm.
“Pull in somewhere,” she said tersely. “I think I gotta be sick.”
The pit was a narrow cement rectangle cut into the floor of the equipment barn, which the tractor or other vehicles could be driven over so that someone could stand underneath and work on them. When not in use it had a heavy plywood cover that rolled into place to prevent accidents. Kate and Hank sat inside the pit, backs to the concrete, with the cover pulled partially over them to protect their heads.
Between the storm and the clouds, the pit was lightless and cooler than the surrounding bam, clean but faintly redolent of gas and oil coupled with the scent of a man and woman who were attracted to each other in close proximity. It was a short step from nearness to the age-old means of seeing by touch in the darkness; from touch to the wordless communication and comfort of fingertips and lips on each other’s skin.
Exploration went no farther than a few gentle kisses and enough touching to reassure themselves that they were each the same people they’d been the night before. Want was a companion here, but not ruler. Rather they held each other close while their minds strayed to other concerns... The children—all of them—and whether or not they were safe; each other—and what to do about this thing that groped for footing between them; last night and how to approach each other about their recklessness.
Outside the wind howled, the rain pounded, thunder deafened, lightning flashed.
Hank’s hand drifted idly over Kate’s hair while his arm held her pillowed against his chest. One leg thrown across his lap, she listened to his heart beat, his lungs fill and empty. Conversation and courage had never seemed so evasive. Finally, though, Kate lifted her face to confront issues, at the same time that Hank’s free hand cupped her chin and raised it.
“It’s the middle of my cycle and—” she began at the same time he said, “We were pretty damned careless last night and—”
“What?” they chorused together, then chuckled, self-conscious.
“You first,” Hank offered.
“No, it’s okay. You go ahead.”
“Sure?”
Kate kissed his wrist and nodded, uncertain. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” He drew a breath, touched the pad of his thumb to her lips wishing he could see her. “I wasn’t too careful with you last night. I should have protected you. I’m sorry. I bought condoms this morning, but if...” Damn, how did he say “if you’re pregnant, I’ll do whatever you want, but I don’t know what I want?
“But if...whatever...”
She stopped his mouth with her hand. “I understand, I think,” she said. “You need to know, it’s the middle of my month and the condoms might be too late, but I wasn’t thinking either, and maybe I should have protected you.” She felt amusement stretch his mouth beneath her fingers. “I’m sorry, but I’m not, you know? And if I’m pregnant...well, it never occurred to me before that I ever might be, and I certainly never planned on it, but if I am...” She hesitated searching for words.
“I’ll be here no matter what you decide,” Hank said firmly, then repeated sadly, “No matter what.”
Another woman might have taken offense. Kate grinned. “Will you,” she said dryly. “That’ll be handy since all I planned to do was say, ‘Thank you.”’
He caught her face between his hands. “What?” Now he really wished he could see her. It might help his hearing if he could, because he didn’t think she could possibly have said what it sounded like she’d said.
Kate raised herself to brush a kiss across his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered against his mouth and he felt drugged, all powerful, joyously male. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Her fingers played about his waist and a smug grin plastered itself to his face. “And I mean that. Thank you for the possibility, for the...the...unexpected maybe. I just never thought...I mean, me having a baby of my own. Wow. That’s...that’s...”
“Intimidating,” Hank supplied.
“Incredible,” she corrected. Then she added honestly, “And scary. And maybe not as well timed as it could be, what with Megan and Risto, and Bele’s adoption not being final and—”
“And maybe not anything at all,” he reminded her. He’d spent the past five years with the serenity prayer as his dearest and most oft ignored companion, but not today.
Kate touched his face, a gentle benediction, almost as if she’d heard his thoughts. “And maybe not,” she agreed softly. “But it was a pretty exciting minute wondering, wasn’t it?”
Hank laughed. It was a pretty exciting everything with Kate around. “Your middle name wouldn’t be Pollyanna, would it?”
“Nope, sorry, it’s Mary. Same idea, though. Find the best part of a situation and make the most of it.”
He huffed something that was more irony than amusement. “Not every situation has a best part,” he said.
“No,” she agreed quietly. “But we can worry about the bad parts later. If there is a later to
worry about. Lord, grant me the serenity and all, you know? Right now I’d rather make the most of the time we’ve got right here.”
“How should we do that?” he asked—warily.
“I don’t suppose,” she mused, running her fingers lazily up the center of his chest, “that you happen to have those condoms with you?”
He shut his eyes and felt want constrict his lungs, pool with the blood in his loins, distracting him from the moment’s worries. In less time than it took to expel a breath she became the fever in his pulse, his only need, his all. It might be a little soon to discuss it, but if she was pregnant, he would do more than merely be here for her. He would be here, there and everywhere for her as long as she would have him. As permanently as possible. Rings, licenses, witnesses and everything.
And if she wasn’t pregnant he still wanted the permanence, the commitment—her days and nights and forevers—as soon as possible.
And Megan would just have to accept it.
His fingers stole across Kate’s breast unhindered by restraint. “As it happens, I’m sitting on a couple of rubbers right now. Why? You interested in a lesson in their use?”
She shrugged, grinning. “As long as we’re stuck here and it’s for the sake of my education... If you feel up to it, it might help keep our minds off the kids.”
“If I feel up to it?” In an instant Hank had her flat on her back, and loomed over her in mock outrage. Laughing, she held her arms open to him.
When the sound of wind traveling by freight train passed overhead, he was deep into demonstrating exactly how very up to furthering her education he felt.
The outer barn door slid open and gray light intruded, almost blinding despite its dimness.
“Mom?”
Engaged in disarranging clothing they’d each just finished rearranging, Kate and Hank came guiltily apart, gulping air.
“I’m here, Mike.”
Kate pushed herself to her knees in the pit, hastily reaching to hook her bra. Naturally, inanimate object though it was, because she was in a hurry it had no intention of cooperating. Getting behind her, Hank brushed her impatient fingers aside and smoothed the hooks into place. His hands lingered underneath her T-shirt for a moment, smoothed the contours of her breasts in farewell; he dipped his head to nudge the wealth of her hair aside, his lips brushing a gentle brand at the back of her neck. Leaning into him, she reached back and touched gentle fingers to his face. Then he released her and reached up to push back the pit cover, boosted her out, hoisted himself out after her.
She got to her feet and dusted herself off, carefully not turning to offer Hank a hand up even though she wanted to. Wishing, briefly, that she had enough experience to know how to make reaching for him a natural part of her life instead of the stolen moments it had so suddenly become—and, in a family this size, could not remain. But she’d never particularly cared for dating the few times she’d gone out in high schoot—too awkward—and she’d never had a lover, so there was an awful lot she had to learn. Besides how to make condoms a pleasurable part of lovemaking. She smiled to herself.
Like how to go about having a...a...more than a friendship with a man in front of the kids.
Full of their basement adventure, Mike and Bele rushed forward to greet her and Hank; Ilya, Jamal and Grisha followed more...nonchalantly, as if the storm hadn’t bothered them at all. As eager as the younger boys, the dog mooned anxiously around Kate’s knees, licking at her hands.
“Is the storm over?” she asked, hugging rain-damp sons and patting Taz.
“Yeah.” There were excited nods. “The radio says so. It’s only raining a little now.”
“Yeah, an’ the house is okay,” Bele said, “cuz we looked, but there’s branches down and trees and—”
“We don’t have ’lectricity or phones—”
“I, um...started the...generator,” Grisha volunteered.
“An’ one of the loafing sheds is sorta sagging,” Mike continued as though there’d been no interruption, “but the llamas are okay.”
Hank came up behind Kate. Without thinking, she stepped closer and settled into place half a step in front of him. Sharing space. Of its own volition, his hand strayed to the small of Kate’s back, slid up to her shoulder. He pulled it away, tucked it safely into a pocket. It just felt so much more natural to have her in the crook of his arm. He had to watch that.
Had to figure out how to make being with her an acceptable part of their kids’ lives.
“Are the girls back?” he asked.
Jamal eyed him oddly but didn’t comment, merely shook his head. “Not yet. But the radio said only one tornado touched down and it wasn’t in town, so—”
The sound of motors and gravel under tires cut him off and took them all to the barn doors. From behind the bam, the tractor bearing Tai and Risto—wet, but apparently none the worse for wear—jounced up the track and into the yard. At the same time, Li pulled the van up behind the house, a county sheriff’s car close behind. The deputy drove straight back to the barn, parked and got out, putting on her hat.
Recognizing the young woman as one of the officers involved in the previous night’s raid, Hank moved forward to meet her. They shook hands.
“Director Mathison,” the deputy greeted him formally.
Official, Hank thought. Bad news for somebody.
He nodded at the law-enforcement officer, becoming in the instant the formidable shirt-and-tie DEA AD he was at the office. That he was more than a little grimy and wore jeans and a T-shirt didn’t matter. The deputy sheriff squirmed almost visibly and straightened.
“Deputy Schulhauser,” Hank acknowledged coolly. The tone commanded respect; Schulhauser’s demeanor gave it. “What news?”
Deputy Schulhauser glanced at Tai, who moved up to join the group in the shelter of the barn door, and Risto who swallowed and hung back, then over her shoulder at the scuff of sandals on gravel that signaled Megan and Li’s approach. She looked at Hank, then apologetically at Kate.
“Are you Kate Anden?” she asked.
Kate nodded. “Yes.”
Schulhauser eyed the number of children regarding her with interest and gritted her teeth. “Perhaps you’d like to send the kids in the house out of the rain, ma’am?”
Kate glanced at the boys and Li, took in Megan’s defiant stance and cocked an eyebrow at Hank. He lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. Your call, his expression said. Kate turned back to the sheriff. “Is this about last night?”
Schulhauser nodded.
“Then I think,” Kate said judiciously, “we’ll go ahead and just consider this today’s classroom and you the visiting speaker.” She eyed her crew. “Pay attention, guys.”
Yeah, right. As if they wouldn’t.
Schulhauser pulled a notebook out of her hip pocket and glanced at it. “We understand you have a Risto Pal—” She struggled with the pronunciation a moment, then gave it a creditable go. “Palmunen staying with you?”
Kate nodded, looked over her shoulder to catch Risto edging away and crooked a no-nonsense finger at him. “Yes, I do.” She moved to stand beside the pale exchange student. “This is Risto.”
Schulhauser snapped her notebook closed and viewed the youth and his American family. “I’m afraid, ma’am, that we found his name next to quite a substantial sum in the gambling files we collected last night.” Her stance changed subtly, squared as if in readiness for either fight or flight. “I have to take him in for questioning.”
Chapter 12
Late August
The stick had a plus.
Swallowing, Kate stared at the pink cross on the end of the third home pregnancy test she’d taken that morning.
Correction. The third positive home pregnancy test she’d taken this morning. And since they were all different brands, really the only thing left now was for her doctor to confirm it.
And, of course, telling Hank and the kids.
Sightless, she stared at the bathroom mirror. Physically sh
e’d never felt better in her life, had the feeling that pregnancy as a condition would thoroughly agree with her. She had no morning sickness, wasn’t tired, nothing. Her breasts were maybe a little tender and her emotions seemed closer to the surface than usual, but she could live with that. Still, the moment five weeks ago when she’d told Hank that all she could say about the possibility of being pregnant was Thank you! seemed a long time gone. A lot had happened since the day of the storm.
A lot.
She and Hank had, for one thing, started dating—much to Tai’s amusement, Li’s shy pleasure, Megan’s consternation and the younger boys’ enthusiastic encouragement—and she’d gotten to know him a lot better. Enough to know that loving him would be both the easiest thing she’d ever do in her life and the hardest. It would be for keeps. He was a man with whom she could not only share a child but a life, if a few intrinsic pieces of their previous lives—like their personalities and Megan—didn’t keep getting in the way.
Megan had been moody and strange ever since the day of the storm and kept more and more to herself, avoiding even Li. Perhaps part of her behavior had to do with Risto being returned to Finland as soon as the police were through questioning him after the raid. Certainly some of it had to do with her father allying himself romantically with Kate and therefore establishing a place for himself within a family Megan had always considered her own private haven. And no doubt some of it was related to the tree that had split in the tornado and gone through the roof of the guesthouse, bringing Hank to live in the main house.
Although he, himself, was the one doing the primary repairs, Megan had been rather vocal in suggesting that her father would do better moving back to their own house for the rest of the summer. She, of course, would stay with the Andens as planned. She didn’t, she said, like the idea of putting Kate and Tai out of their office by moving a bed in there for her father. The fact that Hank was up as early as or earlier than everyone else and didn’t need the office during the day was of little import, as far as his daughter was concerned.